Trek!
by QueenCheetah
Summary: AU- Loosely based on 'Shrek', this parody of a parody features an anti-hero hero, a non-companionable companion, and a male damsel in distress. Chaos and comedy shall surely ensue, but will wit and luck be enough to see our non-heroes through? Tendershipping BxR MxM SxJ
1. Adverse Abductor

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away; there lived a rather unpleasant young man named 'Bakura.' His eyes were dark and fiery, and his wild, white hair hung low over a sharp face. He was somewhat handsome, but he was also arrogant and unsocial, so he became known as the local 'ogre.'

He lived in an old hut on the outskirts of town and kept to himself, frightening away unexpected visitors with various pranks and traps. The 'ogre' loved knives and swords, and he made a reputation for himself as a skilled sword-smith. His bad reputation amongst the other townsfolk, combined with his fascination with weapons, meant he was rarely disturbed. Yes, Bakura's thatched cottage at the edge of the woods normally went unnoticed by those not seeking a skilled metal worker.

Yet the unfriendly 'ogre' was about to receive a most unusual visit, from a most unwelcome pest...

Several miles away, a richly bronzed man was preening himself in front of a large, floor-length mirror. The golden-framed looking glass was presently being held up by two servants, while several others milled about the distracted nobleman. Only one manservant was currently standing next to the aristocratic young man; a strong, dark-skinned man with strange markings on his face. Yet despite the odd scars, it was clear that he was quite shocked by what had just been stated.

"My Lord Marik, do you truly mean-?"

"Yes, Odion. I have decided." The well-muscled baron nodded, and the two retainers eagerly rested the heavy mirror against the nearest wall. Then the platinum-haired lord gestured outwards with one arm, grandly throwing his red cape behind him as he spoke. "Everyone! Listen well: we shall hold my wedding in a fortnight!"

The bewildered servants glanced at one another, not certain what to make of this sudden declaration. Their liege, Marik, had a reputation for being... well, far past _eccentric_ ; but to host a wedding so quickly?! Of course, it was the lord's second-hand man, the brawny retainer named Odion, who stated the obvious.

"Um, and what of the bride, master?"

The light-haired aristocrat scoffed. "Never fear; it has already been decided- I shall wed the most beautiful creature in the land! ...and all my sources all tell me that this creature is a shy young man named 'Ryou' living in the Goshin province. He is the second son of King Milde, and therefore of the finest royal breeding. He is currently studying magic as a mage under the care of a foul-tempered tutor at a remote castle outpost."

The retainers looked at each other once again with uncertainty, but only Odion was brave enough to point out the obvious. "But, my lord- without a woman, surely you will be unable to produce heirs?"

The nobleman raised one golden eyebrow in disbelief. "Odion, have you lost your mind?! I lack no hairs- gaze upon the crowning glory of my beautiful, golden locks!" With that, the conceited aristocrat waved a dark hand through his platinum-toned hair. He glanced critically at his man-at-arms' well-shaven scalp.

"Wait, is _that_ why you're bald? You've been somehow led to believe that you cannot grow hair if you aren't shacking up with some bawd?" The proud baron snorted at the tall underling. "And people say _I'm_ ignorant- good grief, Odion, get a clue!"

The defeated manservant held back a sigh as he bowed in agreement. "Yes, Master Marik..."

"Hmm..." the dark ruler suddenly seemed thoughtful. "But, your question does raise a fair point- it probably would not due to send someone to fetch him the day of the ceremony. There are plenty of preparations to be made, after all... so I must send someone as quickly as possible... someone unafraid of dealing with an irate sorcerer..."

Odion continued kneeling on the stone floor of his lord's castle. "We have many brave, young knights on your court, my liege. They would all gladly pledge this quest to your honor."

But Marik sneered distrustfully. "Oh, _yes_ , we certainly _do_ ; but I cannot risk one of them taking my place- young hearts tend to easily fall for heroic deeds... and the naive Prince Ryou might find himself falsely ensnared... no, I cannot send someone from our own attractive forces." The purple-eyed baron began pacing back and forth as he racked his mind for a solution. " **No** , I must send a champion who is ugly both inside _and_ out... but who in my kingdom could ever fit such a measure?"

One of the mirror-holders suddenly smirked before speaking up. "Sire, I believe _I_ have a name for you..."

"You want me to do _WHAT_?!" The pale blacksmith glowered at the egotistical idiot standing boldly on his threshold. Bakura scowled at the gaudy entourage currently standing just behind their liege. The confused metalsmith was wearing a thick, protective apron made from old leather, and his entire body was smudged with soot. He hated being interrupted when he was working the bellows, and _of course_ it turned out to be the local nutcase, Lord Mare-tick or whatever his name was. "Have you finally lost your last shred of sense?!"

Lord Marik gave a twisted smile as he repeated his declaration. "Not at all. As I said- I, Lord Marik, am sending _you_ on a quest." He pointed one dark finger at the scowling 'ogre.' "You will retrieve the dear Prince Ryou from his tutor's home and bring him to me."

Bakura's cerise eyes seemed to burn as he loudly rebuffed the lord's orders. "You want me to go and freakin' kidnap some guy because you think he's _good-looking_?! Forget it, you lunatic! I'm a sword-maker, not a _m_ _atch_ maker!"

The bronze-skinned aristocrat seemed to be enjoying the reactions of the dirty metalworker. "Oh, but you are whatever I declare you to be. And today I declare you to be a mercenary under my command."

"And if I refuse?" The unsociable citizen snapped, clearly eager to be rid of the madman.

Lord Marik smirked and gestured widely towards the modest land plot surrounding them. "This lovely land you've claimed has not seen a tax increase in a few years... I think it's due for an increase." The noble nonchalantly picked at a spot on his chin as he spoke. "Perhaps a modest rise of say... 1,000 percent for next year's taxes?"

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ The metal-smith nearly passed out upon hearing the outrageous threat. "That's... that's _insane!_ I could never pay off such a massive increase!"

"Then I believe we've reached an understanding, dear _mercenary_." The blonde lord sneered as he turned on his heels and marched back towards his company. "I shall expect you to return within half a fortnight- fare well, 'ogre!'"

The stunned blacksmith felt his jaw drop as the entire party marched off towards the main road. He glanced around at the small hut and the old forest behind him. He knew this was the perfect spot for his metalworking- he needed the trees to make the coal that fueled his furnace, and the distance between himself and the town protected him from complaints against his smoky procedures.

He could not afford to lose this perfect parcel of land.

"#&%$!"


	2. Extraneous Exasperation

Two hours later, the furious blacksmith had secured his belongings and packed a small knapsack for his travels. His face grew sour as he set out on the main road, steadily moving towards the Goshin province.

Bakura snorted to himself as he passed by the richly forested lands. 'What the h*ll am I doing... going on a kidnapping mission for some psychotic lord with a princely obsession...' The light-haired smithy could feel the midday sun warming his back as the leafy trees began to thin. 'Which reminds me... how the h*ll do I even abduct a prince being guarded by an angry magician?!' Although skilled with swords, the metalworker knew he had no chance of defeating a master magister. 'Hopefully I can sneak inside while they're both asleep... maybe I can nab the royal brat before his tutor notices anything is awry...'

The forest path was mostly dirt, but occasionally a stray stone or branch tried to trip up the reluctant traveler.

'Curse these stones...' The iron-smith snarled to himself as he nearly lost his balance for the third time. He glanced upwards and could just see the position of the sun through the tree leaves. 'Hm... it's almost lunchtime...' Bakura was just debating whether to pause for a break, when he heard something moving towards him on the path ahead.

It sounded like several men were all cursing loudly. Inquisitive but wary, the sly metalworker darted behind a large elm tree, and waited as the voices grew closer.

"That's enough of your chatter, slave!" There was a rapid clanking sound, like metal on metal.

"ARGH! I can't take it anymore! I'm gonna rip out his tongue _myself_!" Another man violently promised.

'Bandits... and it seems like they've got a captive...' Bakura frowned. He really didn't feel like tangling with such an unpleasant group, but he'd never traveled to Goshin before. He needed to stay on the path to avoid getting lost. The metalworker noticed a small stone gleaming innocently in the midday light, and he smirked. One swift flick of his wrist, and the sedimentary missile made a loud *clack!* as it struck a tree just behind the brigands.

"What?!" The three men stopped, clearly thinking someone was behind them. Two of the trio quickly drew two very battered daggers, while the third kept a hold on their prisoner.

"Who's there?!" The largest man called out, clearly unsure what they'd heard.

"Oy, let's stop with the games- come out and we'll let you leave, sans your coin-purse!"

But Bakura only smirked. There was a glint of light, and three throwing knives suddenly shot out towards the thieves. Each one struck the tree closest to its human target.

"My daggers are as perfect as my aim. The next set _will_ find your throats." A dark voice promised grimly.

The three bandits glanced nervously at the lustrous blades, before dropping the chains of their captive and fleeing into the woods.

Annoyed, the metalworker stepped out from behind the thick trunk of an oak tree. "Tch... fools." He didn't realize lowering his voice would be _that_ effective at scaring off the lily-livered brigands.

"Hmm?" Bakura glanced downwards when he heard a sound- there, lying on the ground, was another young man. His hair was the color of heated gold, and his skin was the same shade as bark the three blades had embedded in. Bakura rudely pointed at the shackled victim and snapped out, "and who the hell are you?!"

"Eh?" The blonde youth blinked, clearly uncertain what had just transpired. "Wow, that was _you_ making that deep voice?!"

Annoyed by the skepticism, the iron-worker scowled. "And what of it? If you do not find my appearance intimidating, perhaps you would like to sample my blades?" He gestured pointedly towards the three knives, still embedded in their trees.

But the unusual foreigner only stared in awe while the metal-smith retrieved his blades from the bark. "Damn, you're skilled!"

"I know." The other man replied blankly. "Now, as I said before- just who the hell _are_ you?"

"Right, sorry! My name is Malik!" The still-chained captive stood up, brushing the dirt off his lavender tunic as he stood. "Thanks for saving me!

Growing increasingly irritated, Bakura strived to cut off the blathering fool before he could carry on. "I wasn't trying to _save_ you; I was just teaching those idiots a lesson!"

But the blonde immigrant only shrugged. "Semantics. Either way, it doesn't change the facts. I was recently captured from my homeland and taken to be a slave." He gestured behind them with one tanned thumb. "Those three fools managed to rob the traders who were transporting me, and thought I added to their hefty spoil."

"I believe they were badly mistaken." Bakura muttered harshly under his breath as he re-set his pack. "Now if you would kindly _leave me be,_ I have an important errand to run." He stepped back onto the path, flinching as the bronzed loudmouth followed him.

"But you saved my _life_!" The outsider insisted as he trailed behind the prickly blacksmith. "I _must_ repay you somehow!"

"That's bullcr*p!" The white-haired wayfarer hissed without turning around. "I didn't save you from _death_ ; I just scared away your captors! Now leave me alone!"  
"Nope!" Malik quickly matched his stride with his rescuer's as he explained. "Besides, I have to repay my debt- it's part of my Lesthalian culture, you know!"

"I don't give two sh*ts about your 'culture!'" Bakura snapped, starting to lose all patience. The red-eyed man finally turned to glare at the pestiferous tag-along. "Besides, isn't that the stupidest repayment possible? 'Oh, you saved me from slavery, so now I'm your slave!'? It's completely redundant!"

Malik put one dark hand up to his chin in thought as they marched. "Hmm... maybe- but it doesn't matter! I won't stop you from going about your errands; I'm just journeying with you until I can pay you back!"

"LEAVING me alone would be the best repayment!" The exasperated smithy nearly howled at the clueless sap. "You're obviously dense, so allow me to enumerate: LEAVE. ME. _ALONE!_ "

Malik nodded once. "Yep- as soon as I've paid you back. Say, what kind of snacks did you pack? I'm _starving!_ " The oblivious parasite began unabashedly rummaging through the burlap knapsack hanging between Bakura's shoulder blades.

Meanwhile, the pack's owner was struggling to control his rage as he internally debated what would take longer- letting this loud fool travel alongside him, or burying his lifeless body without a shovel.

"Geez, don't you have anything vegan in here?! It's almost all _meat_!"

" _..." Definitely_ leaning towards burying.


	3. Shortcuts, Shorter Tempers

"I think we're lost."

"We're not."

"Are you sure? 'Cuz _I_ think we are."

"We're _not_ lost."

"..."

"..."

"...are you _sure_ we're not-"

" _YES!"_

Bakura was beginning to see why those thugs from earlier had been debating whether or not to remove the golden-haired man's tongue- apparently, it never ceased wagging.

The former slave kept loudly discussing any and every thought that ran through his mind. If he saw a strange-looking leaf, if he thought it was too quiet, if he saw an odd-shaped cloud...

Three hours had passed since their initial 'meeting', and Bakura was still pondering whether it was worth the hassle of bludgeoning the bronzed tag-a-long and burying the corpse.

Normally, the village 'ogre's' social skills were... lacking, to say the least. But having to deal with a clueless dimwit who seemed incapable of closing his maw... well, it was nearly torturous for the unfortunate blacksmith.

 _'Dammit; a_ _crippled_ _jackdaw in a hunter's snare would surely make less_ _of a_ _fuss!'_ Bakura mentally noted as the duo marched on. _'It's as though th_ _is_ _fool had a fear of silence!'_

Perhaps Bakura wouldn't have minded so much if the freed captive said something interesting, but apparently the freed man valued nothing more than bland aesthetics. He kept commenting on the trees, the clouds- anything he could see. And right now he was describing (in great detail) just _why_ the trail they were traveling on was terribly impractical...

"-and you'd think they'd know better than to use this chalk-type gravel, because of all the dust it stirs up when it hasn't been properly dampened..." The bronzed twit remarked as they made their way down the path.

The iron worker was quickly losing his meager patience, and he whirled around to face the trailing nitwit. "Do you _ever_ shut up?!"

Malik seemed surprised by the change in temper, and he held up his still-chained wrists. "Sorry, but these restraints are really are starting to hurt. I didn't think I was complaining _that_ much."

"Hn." The annoyed traveler glanced at the black-toned fetters. "I am a skilled iron-worker; I could easily get you out of those shackles, if we only had a kiln."  
The former slave seemed to perk up at those words. "Great, then let's go!"

But Bakura shook his head and spoke firmly. "Sorry, I know for a fact that the nearest kiln is my own; and I am not heading back all that way for your sake."

Malik frowned and stuck out his tongue, his bound wrists clattering loudly. "And why not?"

"Because I have a time-sensitive mission I must complete; otherwise I shall lose my entire property, along with my kiln."

"Ooh." There were a few moments of blissful silence, but then... "Y'know, I've been thinking-"

The sarcastic savior rolled his eyes as they marched on. "Your abilities never cease to amaze."

"Hey, don't be a jerk!"

Bakura felt himself starting to bristle at the blonde's nerve. "You've done nothing but tag along and chatter mindlessly the entire time! You bray worse than a witless donkey!"

"Better a friendly donkey than a repulsive hermit!" Malik sneered as he stuck out his tongue again. "You could be a little more outgoing, you know! It's very rude to leave the conversation to just one person!"

"In my hometown, I am known as the village 'ogre'- do you really expect my demeanor to be that of a royal messenger?" The white-haired man scowled. "I care little of what others think, and even less of what _you_ think."

Malik huffed and folded his arms as best he could with the shackles still locked. "Well, you could still be less of an *sshole."

"I'll take that under advisement. In the meantime, I need to check our progress... ah." Bakura turned his attention to a large boulder resting just off the path. Carved into the massive old rock was a small notation, which read:

 **Shiba- 8270 sp -**

 **Goshin- 13250 sp →**

"Damn... 13,250 sp further..." The blacksmith seemed frustrated by the remaining distance.

Meanwhile, the foreign pest glanced curiously at the aged markings. "What's an 'sp'?"

Bakura sighed as he double-checked his pack. "It's an old unit of measurement that's commonly used in this area- it stands for a 'standard pace' and means roughly one meter in length."

"Oh."

The iron-worker cursed under his breath. "D*mn... which means it should take another whole day to reach the Goshin province, and then it's still a matter of finding that accursed magician's property..."

"Oh! Oh! I know a shortcut!" Malik gasped and began waving one hand in the air, like a spastic town crier.

"A shortcut." Bakura deadpanned. As much as he wanted this trip to be over with, he was loath to trust the loudmouthed serf. "And _how on Earth_ would a _foreigner_ who was only just recently brought over from another country on a slave slip know a local shortcut that _I don't_?"

"Easy- the *ssholes who kidnapped me from the slave traders used it! It's a really good one, too!" Without so much as a glance backwards, Malik darted off the path towards a very subtle break in the woodland brush. "Just follow me!"

Bakura glanced at the boulder again, then back towards the still-running pest. He let out a faint groan as he reluctantly moved towards the still-chattering blonde. 'I suppose I could always bean him with a sharp rock if he gets us lost off the path... hm, and since we'd be off the main trail I wouldn't even have to hide the body...'

But evidently Malik's 'shortcut' was real, as the pair soon came upon a faint but probable path. Bakura was rather impressed. 'Hm... how unusual. I've never heard the other townsfolk discussing this trail- it must've been an old smuggler's route...'

"See? I told ya!" The slightly taller man grinned proudly at the 'ogre.'

Bakura only rolled his eyes as he confirmed that they were on a genuine passageway that would allow them to bypass the winding main trail. "Fine, whatever. We still have a long ways to go."

But the blonde captive didn't seem at all put off by this statement. "So, what're we looking for?"

"First, we need to get out of these accursed trees." Bakura snarled as a rogue branch nearly stabbed him in the eye. "Then, we need to be sure we've reached the Goshin province. And if by some miracle we achieve both of those goals, then we'll be looking for an unusual structure." He grunted as he moved a fallen log off the faint path. "A strange and large structure, I'm guessing. I've heard the magician's home is situated by a small brook with a waterfall. He'll likely have a windmill for alchemy experimentation and a study facing Polaris, the North star."

"That sounds fascinating- I wonder what the inside looks like?"

Bakura snorted at the former slave's interest. "Who gives a cr*p about _that_? I just wanna grab the royal brat and head back home."

Malik fell silent, evidently annoyed that his traveling partner didn't share his appreciation for aesthetics.

Two more hours slowly passed, and the pair finally reached the edge of the woods. The smuggler's trail faded away as the landscape turned to grassy hills and well-tended fields.

An older man was busy gathering dried straw into large bundles for cattle feed. He didn't seem to notice the two young men making their way through the woods.

"Oy!" Bakura called loudly towards the hardworking stranger. "Sir! We're travelers from Shiba- pray tell me, is this the Goshin province?"

The gray-haired farmer glanced up from the hay he was bailing together and nodded. "The Western edge, yes. The heart of the province is about 3,000 sp that way." The older man pointed towards the East. "The best way to reach anywhere is the main road, over yon." He gestured to a flat patch running besides what seemed to be a modest brick house- no doubt the man's own lodgings.

"Many thanks!" Malik called as Bakura urged his talkative companion towards the gravel path. He didn't need the blonde to start a full conversation with the friendly fieldworker.

And so the odd duo made their way down the main road again, passing by countless farmsteads and even a few tradesman's shops. They only stopped once, after Malik's stomach began growling too loudly for Bakura to ignore. He reluctantly handed the tag-along a ham sandwich from his pack, only to nearly explode with fury when the blonde whipped the meat slice into the woods with a look of disgust. But his "ick" face soon turned to an "ack!" expression as Bakura made to strangle the wasteful foreigner.

"I don't know about your native country, but here meat is a very expensive commodity!" The blacksmith growled as he chased the blonde around a large oak tree. "It's a delicious and precious resource, and you just threw some of mine _into the d*mn forest!_ "

"Okay, okay! Sorry, I didn't realize it was such a big deal! No-one in my tribe ever eats meat; we consider it sinful!"

Bakura seemed to be teetering between pondering such blasphemy and resuming his own sandwich. He sat back down, sneering as he spoke. "You must hail from a land of fools, then- how do you expect to grow big and strong eating the same food as rabbits and groundhogs?"

"Hmph. We actually go _outside_ and _work_. Hence the skin tone." Malik added haughtily as he flexed his bronzed forearms. He wanted to stick out his tongue as well, but had a feeling the ironworker's anger hadn't fully abated. So Malik mindfully finished his (now meat-less) sandwich before they resumed their journey.

Another hour passed, and the midday skies began drifting into darker and darker shades of blue. Bakura could feel his feet growing weary, and even the past-slave was running his mouth less. 'He must need the energy for his feet- not that I mind.'

"Oh, look!" Malik suddenly perked up and pointed excitedly towards the right side of their route. Bakura frowned as he glanced at what seemed to be the dilapidated remains of some unlucky guilds-man's property.

The main 'estate' looked like an old, wooden building- evidently it had been destroyed in a fire long ago. But next to it was a smaller structure, which seemed less damaged. Its stony walls still stood, though they were covered in moss and vines. Glancing for clues, Bakura noticed some rust-colored bits of metal partly buried in the nearby dirt. He recognized some of the tools, and had already guessed what kind of place this had once been before Malik caught on.

"It's a kiln!" Malik gasped excitedly as he peered inside the still-upright structure. The look on his face as he turned back to his companion was almost pitiable. The blonde's lavender eyes seem to plead with the same question as before. Bakura was about to protest, when he noticed the darker man's wrists. They were swollen and badly chaffed, almost to the point of bleeding.

'Dammit...' The foul-tempered blacksmith reluctantly set about scavenging the old forge for the necessary tools. Less than half an hour later, and the grateful foreigner was freed from his shackles.

"Looks like we're camping here for the night." Bakura muttered gruffly as he began rummaging through his pack for something edible. He pulled out two wrapped packages and grabbed a large, flat rock from nearby.

"I'm gonna start a fire- go find us some tinder near the edge of the forest." The metalworker added. Malik eagerly scrounged up some dry branches to use as fuel. Meanwhile, Bakura had laid out two blankets for the travelers and was now setting up a sort of 'natural' grill using a large, flat stone.

Malik tossed down his armful of sticks before glancing about nervously. The burned shell that was once a house seemed far more ominous in the red glow of the sunset.

"Are- are we really going to spend the night here?" The foreign follower swallowed nervously. "I mean, what about... spirits?"

"Spirits." Bakura stated bluntly before glaring at the tag-along. "You really are a piece of work, aren't you? First, you expect me to let you follow me, _then_ you want me to feed you, and _now_ you want to get drunk?!" The pale man's scarlet eyes narrowed in disbelief. " _Forget it_ \- even if I had any alcohol, I definitely wouldn't be sharing it with the very reason for my drinking!"

"What?! NO! Not that kind of 'spirits,' you jerk! I'm talking about vengeful ghosts! The vicious and mysterious souls that still wander the Earth, haunting the places of their tragic demise!"

"Oh. Honestly, that's even dumber than my first interpretation- there's no such thing as pissed-off ghosts."

"And how would _you_ know?"

"Because no one's ever haunted me, and I'm pretty sure I've pissed off almost everyone I've ever met. Surely at least _one_ of those fools must be dead by now."

"..." Malik seemed to be contemplating this new logic, so Bakura began preparing a meager meal for them both. "I'm heating up two canisters of soup- and you'll be getting the smaller one."

"Hey, no fair! I'm bigger, so I deserve the larger can!"

"Yes, but I freed you from your captors AND removed your shackles- two deeds which you have yet to repay me for. So if you want me to pardon your debt for just one hour and let you have ANY sort of victuals... you'd be best off taking the smaller container." He held up his favorite dagger, taken from within his pack. "Of course, you could always _contribute_ to my meal- I don't care much for dark meat, but I suppose any taste can become acquired, with enough helpings..."

Malik gulped loudly and gave a nervous grin. "Er, the smaller one's fine."

"I figured as much." Bakura added curtly as he turned the metal cans with another flat rock. "These should be done soon. In the meantime, you can take the leather water stein from my bag and prepare our mugs."


	4. Eluding Enchanters

After finishing their supper, both of the weary travelers set up their respective 'beds' (Bakura pulled an old blanket from his bag, while Malik ended up gathering some straw from the back of the storehouse) and laid down for the night.

The morning came far too quickly for Bakura's liking, and he pulled the quilt over his head as the woodland birds started chirping. 'Ugh... those miserable little squawkers are lucky I didn't bring my slingshot...'

"Good morning, Bakura!~"

The tired blacksmith snarled and huddled deeper into the old blanket, cursing his luck. _Of course_ the insufferable tag-along would end up being a morning person. Eventually the metalworker slugged out of his 'bed' and began digging through his pack for some sort of sustenance.

Breakfast consisted of two large, dry biscuits apiece (for once, the blonde foreigner could find no fault and tucked in without further complaint). Bakura groaned as he stood up and looked around the abandoned hovel. He slowly started to re-gather all of the supplies they'd left out the night before.

Meanwhile Malik was nearly bouncing about, clearly ready to hit the trail. "Man, I slept so much better without those heavy shackles! Thanks for that!"

Bakura let out a rough grunt of acceptance while he struggled to re-pack his bag. 'Curse this blanket... how did I even get this d*mn thing to fit inside in the first place?!'

"Here, let me help!" Malik grabbed a ragged piece of twine from the dusty floor and wrapped it around the bag. The tightened cord made it much easier to guide the remainder of the blanket into the hewn knapsack.

"...thanks." Bakura begrudgingly added. Yet the smiling ex-slave didn't seem at all put off by his companion's monosyllabic response.

"Wow, that's the first full word you've said today! You're _really_ not a morning person, huh?"

"I'm not an _anytime_ person!" The annoyed smithy snapped as he finally managed to close the buckle atop his pack. "I _like_ silence, and clearly you two have never even been _introduced!_ "

"Tch- silence is boring." Malik casually replied as they both stepped outside. He continued talking as they made their way down the road, leaving the dilapidated property behind. "I'd rather shake things up a bit, start something exciting, and discover something new! There's always places to go and people to meet- it's a big world, you know?"

" **N** **o** , I don't." The crimson-eyed smithy muttered sullenly. "I have everything I need at my own estate."

"Oh?" Malik's expression suddenly turned devious, and he smirked as he sidled closer to the irritated 'ogre'. "So, you have a _girl_ , I take it?"

"What possible use would I have for a woman?!" The irate journeyman snorted, as though his companion was mad for even making such a suggestion. "They're all too _loud_ and _whiny,_ and they wear far too much of that suffocating perfume cr*p!"

Malik grinned as he slyly nudged the other traveler's left arm. "Ah, so it's the _same_ gender you're seeking?"

"Yes." The smithy immediately confirmed without thinking. But his eyes widened and he soon rounded on the now-snickering ex-slave. "I mean, _**NO**_! I don't 'seek' anything or anyone! I am content!" Bakura frowned as he kept his eyes firmly set on the path ahead. He could feel a bit of heat building beneath his skin, and he hoped his face wasn't growing red.

"Oh-ho?" Malik snorted. "Methinks the smithy doth protest too much... I think you're going to have to hire yourself a matchmaker one day."

"And **I** think you're going to end up in a shallow grave- _soon_." Bakura warned the unintimidated tag-along.

But the blonde fool only smirked and shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever you say, 'ogre'."

The frustrated iron worker didn't bother replying. 'This wretched journey feels like it's taking a lifetime to complete- and there's still two days left! I pray this 'sorcerer' isn't terribly skilled, or else I might be tempted to beg him to end _both_ of our lives! Although I suppose we'll have to find the miserable b*stard first...'

The main road was mostly empty, but Bakura was able to glean from the few various passerby that the magician's property wasn't far- evidently the sorcerer also valued privacy, and was situated well before town's boundary lines began.

"So, it'll be on the left side, just past a thick grove of Rowan trees." Malik seemed to blink as he repeated what the last passerby had said. "Hey Bakura, what's a 'Rowan tree'?"

"It's a leafy tree with lots of berries... and if it's where that earlier farmer said, we should see some soon."

"Oh! Is that them?!" Malik eagerly pointed to the left side of the trail, where several rows of interspersed saplings were growing proudly.

"That's them." The smithy confirmed in a flat tone. "There should be an opening nearby..." Sure enough, the confident quest-goer managed to find a small path between the closely planted timbers.

"Wow..." Meanwhile, the dark-skinned follower was staring upwards in awe. The dark-leaved trees were dotted with brilliant bunches of red berries. Malik seemed intrigued by the vivid-yet-tiny spheres ('the plants of my homeland never bear red fruit!') and even wanted to see if they were edible. Normally, Bakura would be thrilled for any chance of 'accidentally' poisoning the pest; but the harried blacksmith knew he was on a deadline. So he quickly dragged the foreign fool past the grove, only muttering, "You can pick berries later- right now, we need to do some reconnaissance."

"Whoa..." Malik gasped as the modest forest gave way to a vast, open prairie. On the other side of the flat field was what could only be described as the estate they sought.

"That must be it." Bakura conceded as he took in the building.

It was an impressive bit of architecture- the main house was a sturdy, grand structure made of reddish-brown bricks and large, colorful windows. It almost looked like a cathedral, but then a second part had been added on to the far left side. The smaller partition contained a domed roof (complete with an observation deck, likely for star-gazing), a large windmill with many attached gears, and a series of odd markings and carvings that wouldn't be amiss in an ancient spell-book.

"Incredible!" Malik immediately took off across the field, scarcely slowing down until he reached the awe-inspiring estate. The white-haired metal worker sighed before reluctantly following after the noisy brat. 'May as well join him in inspecting the property... perhaps we can find a half-opened window or something...'

Bakura had wanted to handle things in a quiet, subtle manner. Alas, his bronzed companion soon spoiled all hopes for this plan when he accidentally knocked into one of the large cogs on outer wall of the mill. The metal icon somehow tapped against another metal gear, which lead to a deafening noise.

The loud *clanging!* sound reverberated several times through Bakura's head, and it took all his strength not to massacre the blonde klutz.

"Oops?" Malik wore only a slightly abashed grin as he apologized.

" _ **Idiot**_ _! Have you_ _no_ _concept of_ _ **stealth**_ _?!_ " Bakura hissed quietly towards the blonde. The smithy planned to continue with more berating terms, but was interrupted by a second noise.

The front door of the house had been thrown open, and a rather tall man strode out onto the stone front stoop. He was wearing dark blue robes over an ivory tunic. His arms and wrists were adorned with different pieces of silver jewelry; many of them holding precious stones.

"And just WHAT do you two fools think you're doing, trespassing on my lands and damaging my property?" The aggravated wizard declared in an unfriendly tone.

Bakura felt himself pause for a moment as he tried to think up a plausible excuse. This gave his ever-talkative follower a chance to (loudly) whisper in his ear: "I thought you said that the prince was guarded by a fire-breathing dragon!"

"Do I _look_ like a dragon to you?" The annoyed brunette frowned at the foreigner. "I study **magic** \- that does not make me a dragon any more than studying the stars would make _you_ a planet."

Bakura put one hand over his face as he muttered sideways to his impulsive comrade: "I said he has a _reputation_ like a fire-breathing dragon."

"Hmph- I have also garnered a reputation for not suffering fools." The magister added arrogantly before declaring: "-I am known as Sir Seto, the Indomitable- _and_ I am also known for being a highly skilled 'Arsero' mage."

"..." Both the foreigners stared blankly for a moment, before Malik whispered (again, quite audibly) "...did that guy just say he's an '*rshole' mage? ...is that even a _thing_?"  
" _ARSERO_ _,_ you uneducated boor!" The annoyed sorcerer snapped, losing some of his icy demeanor. "It's _**LATIN**_ \- it means I study 'the properties of fire!'"

"Ooooh." The blonde nodded before accepting the correction. "Hmm, yeah; that makes more sense."

"..." Sir Seto turned to the white-haired intruder and flatly declared: "Your companion must make for quite the conversational partner."

"Try _traveling_ with him for hours on foot- felt like three bloody weeks." The foul-mouthed 'ogre' replied. "But all pleasantries aside, I'm guessing you're the tutor of Prince Ryou of the Southern lands?"

The steely-eyed wizard gave an abrupt nod. "I am. And what business do the two of you have with my apprentice?"

Spurred by their good luck thus far in finding the estate, Bakura decided to try a little gamble. "We are messengers, and have been sent to fetch him and bring him home. I am Bakura, also known as 'The Ogre', and this is my assistant, Malik. We bring word that Ryou's father, King Milde, has fallen ill."

"Oh?" The tall conjurer peered down at the visitors in a scrutinizing manner. "I heard no such news- pray tell, when was his majesty stricken?"

Malik quickly caught on, and eagerly interjected: "It happened very suddenly!"

"Indeed-" Bakura nodded, almost impressed by his tag-along's wit, "-evidently it is one of those foreign illnesses; no doubt brought by some exotic diplomat visiting from another kingdom."

"Interesting." A wide smirk grew across the magister's face as he spoke. "You have indeed woven a most colorful tale, Sir 'Ogre;' but you've also failed to notice one critical detail."

"Oh? And what's that?" The pale adventurer tried to calmly call the lankier man's bluff.

The dark-haired enchanter sneered. "I am a necromancer of great renown- my intelligence is only superseded by my wealth." Sir Seto's blue eyes seemed to flash with overbearing ire as he spoke. "Did you _truly_ think that I would not keep an arcane scrying stone on hand, when I have the second heir of King Milde himself sharing my manor?! I am _constantly_ aware of the outside world, and I know _for a fact_ that the King is fine, and is currently meeting with his military leaders to discuss financial matters. Which means _you two-"_ here he pointed one long index finger at the pair- " _are_ _**imposters,**_ out to commit high treason against the king... an offense punishable by **death**."

'Sh*t.' Bakura felt his face start to drain of all color- he should've known that a powerful sorcerer wouldn't be foolish enough to completely cut himself off from the outside lands. But if he was truly as skilled with fire magics as he claimed... they were both screwed.

"Tch- I thought as much. Fools." Sir Seto smirked as he started speaking as though he was giving a grand speech. The gloating victor didn't even notice that his audience had somehow dwindled to half its previous size. "Honestly, I'm impressed you even made it _this_ far- you two are quite a pathetic pair of- _ **!**_ "

There was a painful * _th_ _u_ _nk!*_ sound as the rock collided with the side of the brash magician's head. The lanky conjurer instantly collapsed in an undignified heap of blue and ivory robes.

Malik glanced at the downed warlock in front of him before guiltily throwing the heavy stone aside. "Er, sorry... I didn't think he'd be that easy to kill..."

Bakura snorted as he noticed the crumpled robes shifting slightly. "He's not dead, yet... but we'd better hurry and find the prince, or else **we** will be."


	5. Abducted Aristocrat

(A/N: Posted early due to a sudden bout of inspiration- will try to have the next chapter up soon! Thanks for reading!)

 _There was a painful *thunk!* sound as the rock collided with the side of the brash magician's head. The lanky conjurer collapsed in an undignified heap of blue and ivory robes._

 _Malik glanced at the downed warlock before guiltily throwing the rock aside. "Er, sorry... I didn't think he'd be that easy to kill..."_

 _Bakura snorted as he noticed the crumpled robes shifting slightly. "He's not dead yet... but we'd better hurry or **we** will be." _

The inside of the magician's home was no less wondrous than the exterior. The mystical and eerie décor evoked a sense of organized chaos. There were bookshelves lining nearly every wall, filled to the brim with jars of floating stones, books that sometimes seemed to be whispering, and spare quills that Bakura swore seemed to move as soon as he wasn't completely focusing on them.

"Unusual, but we should make haste and find the prince." He glanced around, noticing that they seemed to be situated before a three-way split in the home's halls. "We'll head left first."

Bakura was just about to turn around the corner when he felt something grab onto his sides from behind. Knowing it was likely the blonde tag-along, he growled over one shoulder: _"What the h*ll do you think you're doing?"_

"What, this place doesn't give you the creeps?!" Malik muttered defensively, his grip not lessening. "Look at the skulls on top of that shelf! It's downright disturbing!"

"I don't give a d*mn if you're about to die of fright- just get your hands off me, you lunatic!" The overly-tested iron worker hissed as he tried to throw off the unwanted parasite.

Not expecting such a violent rebuttal, Malik was caught off guard and started to stumble towards the opposite side of the hall. "Waaaagh!" As the bronzed youth cried out, he grabbed onto a tarnished wall sconce for balance.

But the metal sconce dipped unexpectedly, and with a loud groan, one of the bookcases suddenly swung forward and outward. Malik looked up from his spot on the stone floor and gasped again. "Is- is that a _hidden chamber_?!"

Sure enough, the bookcase had moved aside to reveal a wide tunnel. The hidden passageway was well-lit with many different-sized candles on either side.

"Unbelievable..." Malik turned to the white-haired traveler and grinned. "We have to explore it!"

"Wha- I thought you were terrified, you addle-brained coward!" Bakura leered at the other with disbelief in his eyes. "Now you suddenly _want_ to go down the dark, cryptic tunnel?! Make up your mind!"

"But it's a _secret_ tunnel!" Malik added with a grin, as though that one word explained everything. "Which means we have to check it out!"

"Wha- why the hell does _that_ matter?!" But before the metal-smith could make sense of his inane companion's logic, Malik was already half-way down the passageway. "...dammit." The weary blacksmith lowered his head as he made his way after the still-babbling fool. "I wonder if I didn't really die in a fight with Lord Marik's *sshole soldiers, and this is all just a purgatory-like nightmare... my eternal punishment for being a-"

"Bakura! I think I found something!" Malik called from somewhere further ahead.

"..." Bakura found the burrow-like trail made a sharp turn to the right before his loud-mouthed ally came back into view. 'Forget purgatory- this is definitely the first level of the darker place.'

"Look at this! What do you suppose it says?" Malik pointed to where the tunnel came to an end- set against the wall was a large, wooden door with an ornate handle. The entire surface was covered in what seemed to be golden-painted symbols.

"It says, 'You're an idiot.'" Malik started to squawk in protest, but Bakura held up one hand for silence as he pored over the symbols. "I'm joking- these are ancient Runes. Only a few historians and magic practitioners can read them.

"Ancient Runes? Wow... so, what do they say?"  
"DO I LOOK LIKE A BLOODY HISTORIAN?!" The blacksmith snapped, losing the last bits of his patience with the foreigner. "I don't have a d*mn clue- it could be a recipe for spicy pasta for all we know! It doesn't matter! You keep forgetting that we only have a few short moments before Sir *sshole-fire wakes up and toasts us like sausages!"

Malik paused for a moment, as if pondering something. "Huh. Are you getting hungry? You seem to mention food a lot when you get hungry."

" _ARRRGH!"_ The enraged metal-smith let out a howl of frustration. In his fury, he managed to land a single punch on the wooden door. "Curse you, you annoying, stupid-!" But before Bakura could scream any further threats, the two squabbling intruders heard the sound of a lock clicking.

"Eh?" They both turned to stare at the strangely-decorated door. The wooden structure suddenly let out an odd noise, rather like a flame fizzling out, before it swinging quietly open.

"Okaaaay..."

"..." Bakura decided not to question anything (what was the point? He was sure the former slave was going to drive him to complete madness sooner or later) and stepped inside. He blinked a few times as his eyes adjusted to a much brighter setting.

"Oh? This is getting interesting..." His scarlet eyes scanned the tiny room before him, noting everything within. "I think we've found the apprentice's living quarters..."

There was a small desk, covered in what seemed to be very old bits of parchment with faded writings; a small table that likely served for meals and meditation; and four more bookcases with contents similar to the rest of the household (although Bakura saw no skulls).

"Pretty sparse in the entertainment department." Malik stuck out his tongue in disapproval as he looked through the faded documents- apparently they were all written in ancient Runes. "This stuff looks drier than the desert I came from!"

"It must all be regarding ancient magic..." Bakura paused for a moment as he realized something odd. This wasn't the study of some young royal who casually dabbled in magic on a summer's whim. These were the strict quarters of a fully-devoted apprentice. 'Why on Earth would a young monarch be sent for training like _this_? Basic magical studies could surely be taught by a tutor within the castle grounds, and true magicians have been known to engage in dangerous experiments... I cannot fathom one of the royal blood willingly sending their offspring on such a path...'

The pale blacksmith felt someone tugging on his sleeve, and Malik soon whispered, "Hey, do you hear something?"

Stunned by the other's silence, Bakura immediately began listening as well. Evidently, the anxious blonde was right- there was a faint sound from the other room- almost like light breathing...

"I'll go first." Bakura muttered quietly, knowing that his comrade's bravery might waver at any second. The pair made sure to step cautiously across the stone flooring, trying for silence.

A deep burgundy cloth was draped over the only other door-frame in the modest dwelling. Bakura pulled back the heavy fabric, and realized that they'd found the apprentice's sleeping quarters.

There was a small but well-stuffed mattress next to a tiny nightstand. The mattress was laden with goose-down pillows and hand-knit blankets. Between the these objects, however, lay a more solid form. The pale figure's eyes were gently closed, resting just above a soft smile that seemed to indicate pleasant dreams.

Malik glanced curiously at the sleeping royal. For once he kept his voice low as he exclaimed, "wow, she's really pretty. But I guess that 'Marik' guy wants us to find the prince."

"Tch-" Bakura nearly facepalmed at his ally's idiocy. "That _is_ the prince, you fool."

"Eh?!" Malik stared for a second, before loudly declaring: "That can't be right! I wanna see her chest first-!"

Bakura quickly clamped one hand over the foreigner's mouth, cursing his over-talkative nature.

" _ **Idiot!**_ Can truly you not hold your tongue?! Your braying like a barnyard ass is going to get us both killed! We **need** to be quiet, or else-"

"Mmph?" There was faint noise, and reclining figure stirred. Suddenly, the strange duo were watching the waking apprentice as he stretched and yawned. It took the cherub-faced youth a moment to notice the intruders. He stared blankly for a moment before mumbling confusedly, "Um, h'llo?" The prince had clearly been in the middle of a well-needed nap. As he sat up in his bed, the thick quilt covering his upper body fell, revealing a flat chest.

Malik gasped and pointed rudely at the royal's upper body. "Your chest is flat!"

"Uh, yes?" The sleepy-eyed apprentice seemed to still be grappling with this current reality. "Erm, I'm sorry; but _who_ are you, exactly?"

"My name's Malik! And this jerk is called 'Bakura!'"

Bakura felt like beating the smug look off his comrade's face, but decided things might go smoother if they stuck with their original 'story'. "We're messengers, here to escort you to his lordship, Sir Marik."

The noble youth still seemed bewildered, and he shook his head before answering. "Oh, um, I'm afraid Sir Seto's in charge of my training now; so I can't really leave without his permission. Have you spoken with him?"

A strange look came over Bakura's face as he gave up on the cover-story. He glanced down at the prince while cracked his knuckles ominously. "We knocked him out, and we can do the same for you. So either shut up, or black out."

"Wait, wha-AAAHH!" The slender prince yelped as he was directly thrown over Bakura's shoulder. " _What are you_ \- _**stop t**_ _ **his**_! I don't want to go with you!"

"Too bad, but I'm afraid you don't have any say in the matter." Bakura chuckled as he gestured for the bronzed outsider to catch up. Malik slowly fell in line behind the smirking blacksmith, his expression somewhat uneasy. Bakura, however, seemed to be enjoying his 'torturing' of the royal prince immensely. "You'll be traveling all the way back to Shiba like this."

"This is _most_ undignified!"

Ryou heard the man carrying him let out a chuckle before responding with heavy sarcasm in his voice. "Then write a letter, _princess_."

"I'm _not_ a princess! And I won't stand for this!"

"Tch- you can hardly _stand_ when you're over someone else's _back_. Perhaps your dragon-like tutor should focus more on your grammar than your magic." Bakura grinned as he quipped. For some reason he was rather enjoying himself- perhaps he could've made a career in carrying off precious objects. 'In a different lifetime, of course... heaven knows I do love my weapons.'

As if the prince could read his mind, Ryou suddenly blurted out: "You won't get away this, you- you- THIEF!"

"Hmm... I'd like to think of myself as more of a 'delivery boy', but I think 'thief' could work as well."

"You say that like you're proud! Like it's an honorable title!" The young monarch sounded shocked by his kidnapper's tone.

"Well, what can I say? I've been called worse." Bakura almost cheerfully admitted. Even Malik felt a little concerned by his savior's sudden turn of attitude- 'he didn't DRINK anything from one of those jars, did he?!'. But the blonde said nothing as they made their way back through the magician's home.

The odd trio were just stepping off the front stoop, when someone bellowed from behind them. **"HALT!"**

"Wha-!" The group turned (well, Bakura and Malik turned; poor Ryou had little choice) to find that the master of the estate was certainly _**not**_ dead.

A rather disheveled Sir Seto was standing on top of the household's roof, glaring down at them. His fists seemed to be glowing with a blue aura, while his eyes seemed to be radiating a red blaze. His voice was full of eerie fury as he called after the intruders: "Release the young prince, or fear my indomitable blue-eyes white dragon!"

A large monster suddenly sprang forth from the sorcerer's glowing fists- a giant dragon with its jaws open in a threatening bellow.

Malik only squinted at the winged creature in scrutiny. "That's... that's a _light blue_ dragon with _dark blue_ eyes. You know, you should really change the name to- _YA_ _AAAGHHH!_ " Malik screeched as his right side was nearly struck by a bolt of what looked like blue lightning.

"RUN!" Bakura roared as he carried the still-struggling prince. The dragon let out another howl as it took to the skies, its massive wings giving it both great height and speed. Soon both of the bandits were fleeing for their lives from the monstrous beast, barely dodging the electric attacks. Another near-miss hit Malik's sleeve, and Bakura snorted as Malik frantically brushed the still-burning embers off the fabric. "Alright, I'll admit _that_ was funny, but I'm still pissed at you!"

Malik stuck his tongue out as they raced back towards the Rowan grove. "I was almost toasted!"

Bakura laughed as they crossed the grassy field and dove into the thick of the rowan gove. "Relax, I'm an iron-worker!"

"So?!" Malik called out, still watching in case the dragon found a path through the tightly-knit trees. "How would _that_ fact save my life?!"

"It wouldn't!" The blacksmith admitted shrewdly. "But I could make a lovely tombstone!"

"**** YOU!"


	6. Dispelling Distrust

The two bandits tried to catch their breath while the light-blue dragon roared above them, furiously searching for a way to penetrate the dense thicket. The tree grove offered them temporary safety, but such a massive beast would surely not be staved off for long.

Bakura was still holding the stolen prince over one shoulder. He watched the skies warily. 'That damnable monster isn't giving up... we need to get moving.' But as he turned to instruct his comrade, he noticed another problem.

"Ow..." Malik exclaimed as he glanced down at his left knee. Evidently he'd landed on a sharp rock when they dove into the woodland gulley; and now there was a large, skinned patch leaking blood down his leg.

Bakura nearly groaned- he knew they'd have to wrap the wound before carrying on- but was surprised when their captive suddenly spoke up.

"Are you injured? Here, allow me." The magician's apprentice easily slipped out of Bakura's grasp and ran over to the foreigner. He then knelt down next to the cut and raised his hands towards it. The pale prince began whispering in some strange tongue, his eyes never leaving the laceration. Malik and Bakura both watched as a faint, blue light began glowing around the injured skin. Slowly, the bleeding stopped and the wound seemed to close back up. The amateur magician then glanced up at the former slave with concern in his eyes. "Does... does that feel at all better?"

Malik's own eyes went wide as he watched the hastened healing. "That feels perfect!" The bronzed traveler grinned as he tested the leg, flexing the joint with no problems. "That's _incredible_! Thank you!"

Ryou nodded in humble acceptance before turning to the other party member. "Do you have any injuries, then?"

But Bakura was less trusting. "We just _kidnapped_ you, and now you're healing us?!"

The shy youth seemed embarrassed, and he glanced sideways as he spoke. " _Well_ ; I mean, you haven't exactly _harmed_ me or anything... and I know Sir Seto tends to over-react to things like this. He always jumps to the most destructive path possible... and I figure at the very least you two deserve a trial before being smote..."

"Oh, _thanks_." Bakura muttered sarcastically.

The young royal shook his head. "You don't understand- Sir Seto is a highly practiced magister, with only his indomitable spirit matching his skills. Regardless of the time or distance, he _will_ eventually find me and bring me home." The slender nobleman sighed, as though certain of this fact. "But he is also not the sort of man to show mercy on his foes. He has many rare artifacts and jewels in his collection, and a few moons ago some bandits tried to break in to the estate's storehouse... but, well..."

The 'ogre' rolled his eyes. "Let me guess: they were burnt to a crisp?"

"Well, mostly- there _are_ some spells that require human bones, and evidently Sir Seto keeps a small assortment of skulls for similar reasons..."

Malik's face turned somewhat green as he realized what they'd seen inside the sorcerer's library. "Those... those weren't just props, then?"

Ryou shook his head from side-to-side. "He hates thieves with a passion, and does not suffer them lightly. Those skulls were all that was left of the last 'intruders' who defied his will."

The blonde seemed to grow weak-kneed, and he made an awkward sound as he sat on the ground.

"R-right, then we'd better get moving."

"Agreed." Bakura nodded firmly, surprising their involuntary detainee.

"Are- are you certain you don't want to leave me here?" Ryou tilted his head, apparently not following the other's logic. "I doubt Sir Seto will be pleased that you knocked him unconscious, but he _might_ not follow after you if I return unharmed."

The iron-worker held back a sigh as he tried not to let his frustrations build up. "Unfortunately, _I_ don't have a choice, and neither do you." Before the blacksmith could retort further, the group was interrupted by a deafening screech. Evidently the large dragon was unable to find a way through the dense orchard. The winged beast let out a howl of desperation before it turned its fury on the trees themselves. The Rowan grove suddenly burst into flames as the dragon's lightning breath began torching the outer trees. The three escapees watched in horror as the blaze quickly grew into an arid inferno.

"We'll burn to death!" Malik cried out in panic.

"No, we won't." Bakura quickly glanced around and noted a small patch of rocky ground ahead of them. "I'm betting those flames can't cross over stone- this way!" He began guiding the other two across the grove, avoiding the fallen logs and branches of older trees.

The trio were soon surrounded by the harsh crackling and snapping of a blazing fire, but the white-haired smithy didn't falter. "Hurry!" Bakura began shoving the others in front of him, trying to urge them across the graveled spot.

Ryou was the first to break through, and he gasped as he found himself on the main road. Malik soon came after, coughing and swatting stray embers off his clothes. But one member of their party was still missing.

"Bakura?" The confused ex-slave stared at the rapidly-closing opening in the flames. Even the prince looked apprehensive as the only escape area began to shrink.

"AAGH!" With a yell of annoyance, the wayward blacksmith suddenly leapt through the stone patch. He was covered in smudges of mud and soot, and part of his clothing was smoking.

"Bakura!" Malik quickly began batting the hot embers off his savior's garments. "What happened?!"

"I tripped over a d*mn boulder- I'm fine, so don't start partying just yet." The 'ogre' irritably warned the others. Meanwhile, Ryou kept watching the skies with an uneasy expression.

"We should keep moving- the blue-eyes spell is an _animus_ conjuration powered solely by Sir Seto's wrath, and I doubt that will abate for some time..."

Malik looked bewildered, so Bakura hastily translated. "The wizard's still pissed, so we're gonna be dragon-chow if we don't move it!"

"Oh." Malik frowned before turning to the prince. "We should head for the woods on the other side of the road, then. And no offense, but your teacher's kind of an *sshole."

Ryou gave a small sigh of acknowledgment. "He can be a bit, erm, _complicated_ at times, yes; but there's no denying his knowledge of the arcane and achievements in alchemy. Besides, he's the only one who can-"

"Hm?" Despite the urgency of their escape, Bakura found himself intrigued by the way the somber youth rapidly left off.

But Ryou didn't say anything further, as though lost within his own mind. "Never mind. We should get off the main path."

The bedraggled iron worker nodded thoughtfully. "Yes- we'll follow the main road while keeping within the concealment of the denser trees- that should protect us from more aerial ambushes, while at the same time stopping us from getting hopelessly lost."

 _"Then let's go already!"_ Malik declared nervously, and the three hurriedly made their way into the cover of the wild forest. The screams of the enraged dragon echoed through the trees, but the taller and untamed woods were not as easily breached. Unlike the well-tended Rowan grove of Sir Seto's estate, these thicker, older trees were unevenly and densely packed. And setting the entire area on fire was not an option, as it would surely draw the ire of many nearby villagers who relied on the forest for its bounties. Frustrated and defeated, the summoned beast had no choice but to return to its master empty-handed.

Sir Seto glared harshly at the still-burning Rowan trees as his faithful monster returned. "This is not over..." the magician hissed furiously as the dragon dissolved back into a glistening blue ether. The tall sorcerer scowled before heading back inside his mystic abode. "Perhaps it's time I unleashed my latest design..."


	7. Sudden Snag

The unusual trio kept a brisk pace as they dodged between the wild trees and the occasional mossy boulder. The roars of the conjured dragon had long faded away, yet their 'unofficial' leader still seemed grim.

"We'd best be wary- I've heard tales of hunters and bandits who roam these forests, seeking all kinds of 'prey'..." Bakura trailed off dourly.

Malik snorted at the white-haired deviant. "That sounds like a load of- _YAAAAGHH!_ " There was a sharp flurry of movement; followed by a loud snapping sound, like a bowstring being fired. Malik let out a howl of shock as he found himself abruptly hoisted into the sky.

"A snare trap!" Ryou watched as the golden-haired youth dangled helplessly above them. "Oh no... quick, help me find the counter-weight- wait, Bakura?" The young nobleman glanced around, only to pause when he saw the foul-tempered blacksmith hadn't even slowed his steps after Malik's displacement.

"Bakura?! _**Wait**_ _ **!**_ _"_ The distressed young lord called out to the other man. Bakura stopped walking, but only his head turned back towards the others. "We can't just _leave_ him up there!"

"Why not? Someone else'll surely find him." The amateur sorcerer gave the blacksmith a suspicious glare, and Bakura muttered over his shoulder, " _e_ _ventually_."

Meanwhile, Malik was letting out what was undoubtedly curses in some foreign tongue while he thrashed wildly against his bonds. But the huntsman had set a good trap, and no matter how Malik twisted and twirled, he could not foil the ropes.

"He can't possibly get down on his own! We need to help him!" Ryou pleaded with his white-haired captor.

But Bakura wasn't so easily convinced. "I already saved his d*mn life once; if I do it again he'll _never_ leave me alone!"

"Oh?" Ryou felt a sudden burst of inspiration, and he held back a smirk. "And when he dies out here, from thirst or exposure or beasts; then _who_ do you suppose his spirit will haunt for all eternity?" The slender aristocrat wryly proposed.

The irate 'ogre' pointed one index finger at the writhing foreigner and hissed: " **We went over this** **last night!** _Ghosts don't exist!_ "

"Oh? Really?" The smile on the prince's face was unexpected as he replied in an almost derisive tone. "And _who_ do you think would know better: a random village blacksmith, or someone well-trained by a renowned sorcerer in the most mystical arts of all knowledge?"

Realizing the noble whelp was right, Bakura let out a harsh sound of vexation. Annoyed, the pale smithy pulled out his favorite dagger and sliced through the main rope with one swift motion.

Malik yelped as he suddenly fell back to the forest floor. He let out a soft groan as he righted his body and checked himself for injuries.

"Malik! Are you okay? I can heal anything minor..."

"I think- I think I'm alright." Two violet eyes narrowed in annoyance as they landed on Bakura. "No thanks to you, you *ss!"

"Tch. You truly think you have cause to call me as such, when your own foolishness and chatter are to blame for your ignorance?"

"You could've warned me!" Malik stuck out his tongue as he stood up, brushing the pine needles off his clothes. "And furthermore, if I _DO_ end up dying while completing this ridiculous quest, I'll be sure to come back and torture you for the rest of your miserable days- you can be _**sure**_ of it!"

"I wouldn't be so certain of that." Ryou admitted pleasantly. "After all, there's never been any verifiable proof that lost souls can return to our realm in any effective form!"

"WHAT?!" Bakura finally came to a full halt as he rounded on the smaller youth. "You outright _lied_ to me, you wretched little imp!"

But the gentle lord remained undaunted as he calmly replied. "You do forget, sir blacksmith: I'm coming with you of my own free will- which means that I will maintain my personal autonomy and judgment when it comes to matters of unnecessary deaths-by-proxy."

"He's not even a citizen of your own bloody kingdom!" The metal-worker countered. He knew that most royal families were considered 'eccentric,' but this was absurd! "Why do you even care?!"

The white-haired prince shrugged. "He has yet to harm me or my kin- what reason do I have to want him dead?"

Bakura felt his resolve wavering. " _You just haven't been around him as long as I have!_ Trust me, he _never_ shuts up!"

"His comments are amusing enough, and I always desire to learn more of foreign lands and their inhabitants." Ryou admitted while gesturing at the forest around them. "Besides, this is wild woodland; where bears are known to roam- it's always best to make some noise before traipsing right onto a hungry bruin's dinner table."

"Wait, so bears in this country eat at tables?!" Malik blinked in genuine astonishment. "How odd!"

Bakura was ready to scream his misfortunes to the heavens, when he heard a startled *gasp!*

The prince had managed to somehow step in some sort of small animal hole. Evidently he'd fallen in an awkward manner. "Oh, ow... I seem to have twisted my right ankle." Ryou carefully pulled his lower leg out of the hole. He then tried to gingerly test the joint, but was left wincing the instant his foot met the ground. "Ouch..."

Malik watched curiously as the prince hobbled to a standing position. "Can't you heal yourself?"

The wizarding apprentice sighed as he leaned against a young maple tree. "My healing magicks will do the trick, yes; however they are directed by the blood that flows through the veins. Which is swift and sure in the case of a cut or scrape sort of wound, but for something like this..."

"It's slower to heal." Bakura butted in.

"Right. My body won't sense any blood loss, so the affected area is only receiving the typical flow associated with average circulation."

Malik blinked again, and Ryou hastily added, "-so it will take some time."  
"Oh..."

"In the meantime, it would help if I could stay off of it- does anyone see a good walking-stick or a- _**ACK!**_ " Ryou cried out as he was yet again hoisted over the blacksmith's shoulder. "B-Bakura!"

"Like I said, we were sent to fetch you- I doubt Lord Marik would be pleased to find that you've been crippled in the process. I value my own daily 'blood flow' too much to risk his unpredictable wrath."

"..." The prince seemed rather miffed, but evidently not enough to warrant further protest. So the three carried on in this manner, the two 'commoners' marching while the shy nobleman clung to the blacksmith's shoulders. This left him plenty of time to ponder the bearer's words. "And just what, exactly, is your tie to Sir Marik then?"

"We were 'hired' (so to speak) by Lord Marik to retrieve you." Bakura answered in a flat tone.

"But- _why?!_ " The young prince seemed troubled by this declaration, and his voice rose as he spoke. "I don't understand... we have no quarrel with his realm- in fact, my father recently sent aid when a sudden landslide blocked their city's main thoroughfare during the harvest season."

"He's making arrangements to marry you!" Malik cheerfully exclaimed.

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Ryou nearly screeched in shock, teetering on the blacksmith's shoulder. "What do you mean, _'marry?!'_ "

"It's a ceremony in which you'll be bonded for life-" Malik added helpfully before he was cut off.

"No, no- I know what marriage is, it's just- I-I can't just marry someone I've never even met before!" The prince felt the air suddenly vanish from his lungs as he felt a panic attack coming on. "That's _ridiculous!_ "

"Pfth, please. Cut the 'shocked' crap- you're a member of a royal family, and you royals are always making arranged marriages." Bakura retorted rather bluntly. "I wouldn't be surprised if the king already had someone else in mind for you!"

Shock turned to indignation, and Ryou shook his head firmly from his lofty perch. "My father would never approve of such a thing, and besides; I'm only second-in-line! My elder brother Akefia is the next in line, so I have no need to... sire... heirs." He trailed off awkwardly.

"No one's expecting you to give birth." Malik pointed out in what was clearly meant to be a helpful manner. Bakura gave him a sideways glance of disbelief, but apparently the prince wasn't as shocked.

"I- I suppose that's good..." Ryou murmured distractedly, "but I really don't want to promise the rest of my life to someone I haven't even met- wait..." A thought suddenly struck the young prince, and he frowned. "Why didn't Sir Marik come to fetch me himself? Surely a lord of his standing would not send such a small party to retrieve a royal prince? I mean, no offense; but there _are_ only two of you, right?" Ryou glanced around, as if more men might be hiding behind the nearby trees. "It's most odd..."

"Quite frankly, the great 'Lord' holds the deed to my land, and that *sshole threatened to jack up the taxes on my meager parcel by a thousand percent if I didn't go on this stupid 'quest.'" Bakura sourly replied. "As for _why_ he sent only me, I don't know." He jerked one thumb towards the blonde tag-along. " _This_ moron joined me later on."

"Hey!"

Ryou bit his lower lip in disappointment. "That's horrible- I can't say I approve of such blatant bullying. I'm liking this 'Marik' less and less by the minute."

Malik quickly gave Bakura a furtive gesture by shaking his head and quickly running one finger across his own throat. Bakura glanced quizzically at the blonde, back to the prince on his shoulder, and then back again to the blonde.

The bewildered 'ogre' slowed his pace and tried to lean sideways so he could speak quietly with his comrade.

" _What's wrong with you?!"_ He whispered madly. _"I'm not going to kill him! I want my land back!"_

" _NO! I meant that you need to_ _kill the conversation_ _!_ " Malik hissed back. _"Listen, you need to play up Lord Marik more! Make the young prince_ _like_ _him! I mean, if you tell him the guy's a_ _giant_ _*ss, he's not gonna want to meet him! And then we'll have to fight the little monarch every step of the way_ _back_ _!_ _Capisce?!_ _"_

"Oh..." Bakura frowned as he realized what Malik was saying. _'Great,_ _so_ _now I have to play_ _a_ _freakin' matchmaker_ _as well_ _?! This job sucks...'_

" _Just say something enchanting about him- and make it sound unforced!"_

Bakura nodded once before returning his attention to the prince. Not sure what to say, he went with one of the most obvious points he could extol. "So, uh... Lord Marik's got muscles."

Malik struggled not to walk into a tree as he pondered that 'enchanting' and 'unforced' statement. 'Smooth, Bakura. _Real_ smooth.'

"I've never really been much for muscular men." The shy prince admitted as he was carried along. "I much prefer brain over brawn."

 _'Well,_ _with Lord Marik,_ _you're_ _probably_ _screwed_ _over_ _on that front...'_ Bakura thought to himself, but decided not to mention it aloud. "Er, he's really rich..."

"Um, and I'm likely rich _er_...?" Ryou stared downwards in confusion as the pale traveler blanched.

'Sh*t, I forgot, he's a _prince_... that's even higher-up on the snob hierarchy...' The desperate iron-worker began grasping at straws. "Er, he's got a _really_ big... erm, castle?"

The shorter youth sighed and suddenly slipped down to the ground, leaving the surprised smithy empty-handed. He then turned to face his strange escorts. "Look, I know what you're both doing; and I appreciate it. Really. But I'm not going to just marry someone right after meeting him."

The two travelers looked somewhat dejected, so the prince spoke on. "But don't worry- I'll go with you so you can get your land back, alright? After that, I'll find another way back home. We're still on good terms with Lord Marik's people, so I doubt he'd be foolish enough to try and kidnap me."

Malik tried not to snort at that last statement. 'He kindof already did...'

Meanwhile, Bakura was baffled- why was this upper-class royal helping two peasant strangers? Normally, he'd suspect this was all a trap, but honestly... he couldn't see how the prince gained any advantage from it.

'Hmph... though I cannot risk losing my land, I must confess; I feel a bit of sympathy growing inside for this naive little fool...'


	8. Fortuitous Feast

The trio had barely moved more than a hundred standard paces away from the dismantled rope trap, when a rather brazen voice called out to them. "Seems like **someone's** been cutting down my snares- not a very wise move when you're trespassing on _private_ property."

The flippant remark sounded more amused than furious; yet Malik still seemed unnerved by the possibility of an angry landowner chasing after them. He turned and hissed to his rescuer, "Bakura, we'd better move!"

"What, you've just been chased by a flame-belching _**dragon**_ and you're afraid of _this_ guy?!" The annoyed blacksmith shook his head. "If I didn't have a prince riding on my back right now, I'd slap the cr*p out of you myself!"

Though it indeed sounded like only one man was nearby, Ryou felt his uneasiness growing as he scanned the surrounding woods. Soon a lone figure started walking towards the trio, his posture matching his arrogant tone. "I am known as Otogi. Otogi the Visionary." Here the emerald-eyed young man gave a rather licentious wink towards the young royal still hanging on atop the blacksmith's back. "And you're in _my_ part of the woods now."

"Actually, we weren't aware of that fact; **mainly** because _we don't care_ _._ " Bakura replied dryly. "Now be a good sport and _shove off_!"

The raven-haired man laughed while flipping his bangs aside in a carefree motion. "Sorry, but I'm not going to let a beauty as glorious at _that_ get away from me- not without a bit of... _posing,_ first." He glanced again towards the now-cringing prince.

Malik seemed disgusted, but Bakura only yelped, " _WHAT?!_ " Yet they were both ignored by the brash landowner. The raven-haired man stepped closer, and gave a formal bow before addressing Ryou directly. "Surely a lady of your breeding deserves far more suitable company- an elegant gentleman of refinement and class... such a myself. Allow me a moment to handle these crude 'ruffians,' and I'll entertain you with my... most _artistic_ strokes."

"..." Bakura wordlessly pulled out an impressive dagger from between his belt and his tunic. "Your perversion is detestable enough, but I think I'll kill you just for being annoying, rather than on any justifiable principle."

"Eh?!" The black-haired man suddenly jumped back, holding his arms out in a pacifying gesture. "Wait, wait! Hold it! You misunderstood my intentions- I'm an _artist_!"

The injured royal finally decided to interject, loudly declaring, ""and YOU misunderstand my inclinations, sir- my name is **Prince** Ryou Bakura, of the Kingdom of Tresloin. I am traveling with these two men acting as my personal retainers."

"Oh. _Oh!"_ The olive-skinned youth gave a hasty bow of apology before spluttering out a response. "My deepest apologies, your highness... I have heard of your mother's unparalleled beauty, and it seems that you have inherited your own fair share! Please, excuse my witless folly!"

Ryou only gave a quiet sigh, as though this sort of mix-up happened a lot. "It is of little consequence. My family's unusual looks are infamous throughout the lands, and I cannot fault you for taking notice with your creative eye."

"Thank you, my liege." The now standing landowner glanced over the unusual party. "I do not wish to leave any bad feelings between us; might I offer you and your traveling companions a home-cooked meal by way of restitution?"

Malik's eyes lit up at the mention of food, and even Bakura seemed tempted. Ryou was far less eager, but once he noticed the looks on the other two's faces, he had to give in. "I can hardly refuse such an earnest pledge; if you truly feel that you can accommodate we three, then our group will gladly accept."

"Then allow me to host you for the evening." Otogi gave another bow, before guiding the trio to a large, wood cabin. He unlatched the heavy door, and invited the odd trio in.

"Oh my..." The young prince glanced at the décor as they were ushered inside the warm dwelling. Every wall held several paintings; most of them were based on natural plants and wildlife scenes; but a few seemed more abstract and unique. "You do indeed have quite an eye, mister Otogi."

"High praise from someone undoubtedly very well-versed in the arts." The man bowed again. "I study the inspirations of nature in this remote cabin, where I might not be disturbed for days. I do not often have guests here, but I believe I can offer a meal that will please us all."

At these words, the prince (no longer astride the blacksmith's back) pulled something from a small, cloth bag hidden within his robes. "Naturally, I would never expect such an unheralded request for lodgings and nourishment to be complimentary..." Ryou then held out a glistening, golden coin- clearly a very valuable piece of his own kingdom's currency. "Will this suffice as fair trade?"

But the reclusive artist balked at the sight of the large circle being presented, and he shook his head. "But- that's _pure gold_ , is it not?! No, no- that's far too much, your highness! I can't possibly provide you with the appropriate change for such a precious coin!"

The prince smiled and dropped the coin into the other's palm anyway. "There is no need- I'm offering the whole piece freely."

The artist tried yet again to protest, but the prince was insistent. "You've been very generous, despite that fact that you aren't one of my own subjects. (Not to mention we did kinda destroy one of your traps). Please, let me repay you for your kindness."

So the artist gave in and began setting up a feast. He quickly raided his personal stores and began setting places at a lovely oak table. "Give me half an hour, then; if you can!"

Soon the modest abode was full of the sounds and smells of simmering soup, fresh-chopped salads, and a hearty mix of finely-grilled meats being carefully placed over a thick pasta dish.

Ryou used his 'walking stick' to get over to the table. His ankle was still sore, but it was starting to heal (for the most part). Malik and Bakura took seats on either side of the pale royal. They did not have to wait long for the first course, and everyone eagerly tucked into a very fine soup.  
"Mmm- I do love the flavoring in this- it's very rich!" Ryou commented while giving the chef a gratified grin.

"Basil, parsley, and black pepper- all freshly grown in the garden just out back." The 'visionary' declared proudly. "I don't allow much to distract me from my art, but I _insist_ on top quality ingredients for all my meals!"

"It's hard to make a masterpiece from bad paints." The prince agreed.

"Exactly!" The shamrock-eyed youth nodded- clearly he was pleased by the white-haired nobleman's discernment. "And here I can make all my paints from the best and purest components!"

Bakura and Malik were waiting for the second course, each lost in their own thoughts. Malik was rather grateful to finally get a meal that wasn't saturated with meat. Bakura, though, was still wary of the stranger now conversing with the prince. 'Something's amiss here- I don't know of any artist who has to set traps to get ingredients for his meals and mediums...'

Clearly the prince had been pondering the same thing, and he casually asked- "I suppose you set those traps to discourage intruders, then?"

Otogi sighed. "I wish I didn't have a need for them, but this land-plot used to be popular fodder for the locals- they would trespass all the time, hunting for stags and wild boar."

Malik frowned. "Surely that's illegal?!"

"Oh yes; but this land sat vacant for ages, so no one truly cared." He waved one hand in annoyance. "See, the last owner of the property died without a proper will, so it took quite a while to sort out the details. My master was finally able to buy it half a decade ago- but there's still some stubborn fools who refuse to accept that such 'prime hunting grounds' now belong to a mostly non-hunting artist."

"Your 'master'- you were a slave?!" Malik sounded stunned by the supposed-revelation.

But Ryou quickly corrected him with a soft nudge. "In this case, I believe our host means he was a pupil studying under a very skilled artist-?"

"Indeed- my teacher and guide, Ceruz Falkone, was the most masterful artist in the province during his time."

"I have heard of his works- his pastel landscapes were always well-respected." The royal youth added.

"Yes- unfortunately, he passed away last winter." Ototgi clasped his hands together and bowed his head over them in grief. "He had developed an illness no herbs could cure, and slowly fell to waste."

Ryou frowned as he saw the student's pain at recalling such memories. "My truest condolences."

"Thank you- he left this world too soon." Otogi nodded before unfolding his arms and proudly adding, "nonetheless, I shall try to honor his memory by developing my own works, and upholding his legacy as a testament to the power of true inspiration and raw talent!"

Though the determination in the black-haired visionary's was impressive, his words didn't quite reach the two males still plowing through the third course of the meal.

"Whath the heckth is he saying?" Malik quietly muttered to Bakura through a thick slice of bread.

"I haven't a d*mn clue- and stop spraying me with crumbs, you idiot!"

A short while later, with his guest's stomachs comfortably full, Otogi began racing around the cabin. Apparently the golden coin was of too great a value for him to consciously accept it as payment for a single meal. Instead, the creative recluse quickly went through his stores and wrapped up three bundles of bread, cheeses, and (much to Malik's disgust) various meats. The cottage owner also managed to get three fresh skeins filled to the brim with clear water from 'a nearby well.'

Soon, Otogi was standing the doorway, waving off the now heavily-laden trio. He called helpfully after them: "There's an abandoned mill not too far from here- about 600 sp down the road on the right! It's far from a royal palace, but it should keep you dry until you reach your next stop!"

Ryou waved back with a cry of "many thanks!" The blacksmith and his 'follower' were more reluctant to wish the unusual artist well, but they waved back anyway.

The trio had barely taken on the road again, when Bakura glanced towards the cheerful royal. "I have to say, you certainly took to that artist's stew faster than I would have thought. Surely a nobleman such as yourself should fear trickery from strangers met abroad?"

"Oh, well-" the slender prince shrugged in embarrassment, "-actually, I thought it would be better if I sampled it first- you see, as a member of a royal family, I've had many protective spells cast on me to help in the event of poisoning or foul magicks." Malik glanced at the rowan-eyed youth in surprise. "I figured I could take a few bites first, and then if I felt odd I could warn the two of you."

The blacksmith felt stunned by this revelation. What he'd taken for naive recklessness... had in fact been pure selflessness.

"You're a very strange royal, you know that?"

Ryou let out an awkward laugh, trying not to let his nerves show as they marched onward. 'If only he knew the truth...'


	9. Deviant Deductions

So the well-fed but weary group plodded onwards, slowly heading towards the abandoned shack that Otogi the Visionary had described.

Much to Bakura's relief, the golden-haired fool was far less chatty when his stomach was stuffed. This left the smithy with only the (still injured) nobleman to speak with. He gave a faint nod up towards the other's head as he spoke to his 'passenger.' "How does your ankle feel? Better?"

Though he couldn't see it, Bakura's 'rider' had a faint blush as he replied. "Yes... thank you again for your kind and selfless aid."

The fatigued commoner almost halted his pace at that unexpected praise. 'The Ogre' wasn't used to being thanked for his actions. And it was certainly the first time anyone had ever deemed his actions to be 'kind and selfless.' Unsure of how to respond, he only added:

"Tch- 'tis barely a task worth mentioning. And we should reach that moron Lord Marik's castle by tomorrow- though you are far from a burdensome weight, I should still think my back would be better off not carrying a Tresloinian prince for a full day again..."

"Oh, are your shoulders hurting you?"

Bakura's response was instantaneous. "Indeed; it almost feels like I've been carrying a _royal pain_ all day."

"Ha-ha." But the monarch's face held a faint smile as he spoke on- "but seriously, if you're in pain; I'd be glad to help- if you don't mind?"

'A stranger nobleman surely never existed... offering his own aid to a lowly smithy like myself.' The iron-worker hid his confusion with another query. "And, pray tell, what exactly what do you mean by _'help'?_ "

The young prince flushed a bit more strongly, but before he could answer, the pair were interrupted by the tanned traveler's excited yelling. _"That's it! That's gotta be the mill!"_

Bakura felt his usual scowl returning to his face as they headed towards the derelict lot. 'Curse that loud-mouthed wretch- every time I seem to have a moment of pleasantries and peace, he breaks in like a braying jack*ss, over and over again...'

The area just off the road showed signs of having once been a site of great works, but now everything was slowly returning to the wilds. Most the water-bearing equipment had been taken away ages before, leaving only a tiny, decrepit shack (likely an outhouse) and the mill's base 'tower'. The large, cylindrical structure was covered in layers of moss and vines. Here and there, bits of worn stone and rotting, wooden thatches peeked through the thick vegetation. Facing the byway was a door- a single, rowan-colored plank, just visible behind the curtain of flora. Malik eagerly bolted ahead, throwing the rotting door open with a flourish. His face fell when he realized Otogi had not been exaggerating when declared the aging mill to be 'far from a royal palace.'

The roughly hewn floorboards were covered with old straw, just like the abandoned smith-works Bakura and Malik had used the night before. But while the mill wasn't much more luxurious, it was indeed dry and fully enclosed. Only two small windows near the top of the structure were visible, their dust-tinted glass partially filtering the brilliant moonlight.

"Well, it's not an archduke's mansion; but it'll do." Malik announced as he sank into a large clump of dried husks and stalks.

"When have you even- oh, forget it." Growing more and more tired, Bakura held back a growl as he set down the pale prince. "I trust your majesty can survive one night of such paltry accommodations?"

Ryou couldn't help but giggle at his 'carrier's' humor. "After learning the truth behind Sir Seto's skull collection and having to sleep in the next room that very same night, I believe I could sleep anywhere!"

"That dude's a real jerk- why were you being apprenticed by him, anyway?" Malik loudly inquired as he shifted further into his straw mound.

But for once, the well-mannered noble didn't seem to want to answer. The 'ogre' watched with growing interest as the youth began quietly muttering a non-committal response. Bakura decided to spare the boy some embarrassment, and he quickly grabbed a stray chunk of wood and hurled it at the former slave.

"OW!" The blonde rubbed his forehead and glared at the ill-tempered assailant. "What was that for?!"

"Quit pestering him, you fool! We've all had a long day; so why don't you button up and get some sleep?!"

Peeved, Malik gave a loud huff before standing up, bits of straw falling off his clothes like autumn leaves. "Fine! Jeez, you're just as big a jerk yourself, you know!" He stuck his tongue out before storming out the aging door, slamming it shut behind him.

The prince now had his face nearly buried in his knees as he quietly spoke from his own straw bed. "...you didn't need to throw something at him."

Bakura glanced at the closed entryway. He wasn't exactly feeling repentant at the moment. "Trust me, it's the only way to get him to shut up. He's like a jackdaw caught in a trap- there's no end to the noises when he's present."

"...even so."

Rolling his eyes, the slightly-older traveler sighed. "Very well, I'll try not to hurl things at his face from now on. Fair enough?"

"..."

The metalworker felt baffled by the royal's continued reluctance to speak. He didn't think their unexpected dinner was that upsetting, which meant Malik had hit a sore spot with his questions. But rather than press the point, Bakura decided to change the subject. A sharp twinge from his upper back reminded him of the perfect way to distract the thoughtful prince.

"Your highness, when you offered your aid before..." He made an exaggerated show of stretching his shoulders, and Ryou finally glanced upwards towards him.

The aristocrat's eyes grew a little brighter, and he softly explained, "I, um, I've been told that I have great skill in the art of healing massages."

Bakura had to make a conscious effort to keep the grin off his face. Instead, he settled for merely looking politely intrigued. "Oh indeed?"

Meanwhile, the third member of the party was still moving outside. A few minutes had passed since Malik stormed off, and now he was headed from the dilapidated outhouse back toward the mill. The blonde was muttering bitterly as he made his way back to the shelter, all the while cursing the surly smithy. 'Sheesh, I can see where the 'ogre' nickname comes from- throwing half a tree at my head just because I had a question for Ry-'

"Ooh... that feels divine."

The foreigner froze in place as a low voice suddenly drifted from behind the closed door. 'That sounded like Bakura... but why was he _moaning_?!'

Then Ryou's lilting tone rang out with a rather eager suggestion. "I can go a little harder, if you like."

 _'What.'_ The ex-slave paused, wondering if he was hearing right. He pressed one tanned ear against the discolored planks, his eyes widening. But surely he must've misheard them- after all, a royal _prince_ wouldn't be-

"Mhm... thanks, but this is fine." A few more noises of approval. "Mhmmm... you have truly talented hands. I take it you've done this many times before?"

Malik felt his face fully blanch. ' _WHAT_ _.'_ He pressed his ear into the rotting wood so hard, he could feel several splinters threatening to pierce him. But still, he waited with one hand on the door, his anticipation soaring as the prince voiced his response.

"Well, I've mostly practiced on my father-" but before the royal youth could elaborate on treating his father's old war-wounds, the shabby door was flung open with a loud screech.

" _ **WHAT?!"**_ Two purple eyes quickly took in a surprisingly wholesome scene. Ryou was carefully rubbing Bakura's back, his hands emitting the same bluish glow as they did when he'd healed Malik's scrape. The only piece of clothing on the floor was Bakura's brown leather vest- it had clearly been discarded in favor of a more effective healing contact.

"Don't they know how to knock in whatever wretched country you hail from?!" Bakura snapped. His upper back was finally starting to feel better, and _of course_ that bronzed moron had to burst in and interrupt everything... _again._

Ryou let out a startled gasp as he glanced up from his work. "Oh! Malik, your nose! You're bleeding everywhere!

"Uhh..."

Bakura watched forlornly as the distracted prince got up and began dabbing at the foreigner's nose with a clean silk handkerchief. 'Tch- that's just my luck- not only is my back still sore, but that blonde fool _finally_ suffers an aneurysm, and it _still_ doesn't kill him!' He glared as the white-haired monarch continued tending to the blonde's face. "Don't bother wasting all your time, fussing with that fool; my luck isn't nearly good enough for him to have been mortally wounded."

Malik pushed aside the tainted cloth before flipping off the mouthy metalworker. "Screw you, miserable degenerate!'"

The blacksmith returned the gesture twofold and snarled, "just shut it already, you senseless donkey!"

Ryou felt his curiosity growing as the other two kept bickering. "I'm sorry, but why are you calling him a 'donkey?'"

"Because he's a complete and utter jack*ss!"

"Hey!" Malik scowled as he aimed a kick at the other commoner.

"You keep braying and kicking about like one, so either shut up or live with it!" Bakura snapped as he dodged the assault.

"Oh yeah? At least I'd still be wanted- after all, better to be a useful and hard-working beast than a nasty old ogre!"

"An 'ogre'?" The prince repeated with the same confusion.

"Some people think that you need to be a happy little butterfly all the time- and if you're not, they call you a spiteful hermit with no manners or humor."

"The truth hurts, huh?" There was a moment's pause, then Malik yelped in pain. "OW! Where do you keep finding these hunks of wood?!"

Ryou instantly glared at the thrower. "You promised you wouldn't throw more stuff at him, Bakura."

"No, I said I'd _**try**_ not to hurl stuff at his _**face**_. And just a moment ago, I was _clearly_ aiming at his chest."

The nobleman tried not to groan as the row began anew. 'The way they both squabble and scrap, you'd swear they were brothers or something...'

A couple minutes passed, and Ryou thought he should interrupt the still-quarreling pair. "By the way, Malik- you still haven't told me how you two ended up on this 'quest' together."

As the prince suspected, the blonde's talkative nature soon overrode his need to berate the blacksmith, and he quickly launched into a long and (very much) inaccurate re-telling of yesterday's events.

"-so we ended up at the main road again, and some random farmer gave us some vague directions, which how we finally discovered the magician's estate!"

The monarch blinked, uncertain just how strongly and how much of Malik's tale was embellished. "So, basically; you were brought here as a slave, and Bakura freed you?"

"More or less." The other white-haired man decided to leave out that it was a reluctant rescue, at best. But Prince Ryou only seemed more impressed by the other's modesty. "That's... really quite honorable. My father has forbidding slavery in our kingdom, but I know many others still allow that most heinous trade..."

Malik watched with interest as the two paler travelers carried the rest of the conversation onward. He felt a twinge of regret that the pair would likely be separated forever the very next day...

'Still; in the end, it'll be for the best- how does that old saying go? 'Water birds don't mix with oil feathers' or something? Either way, their destinies are surely going to follow vastly different paths.'


	10. Magical Mishaps

Luckily, the old mill's flooring was covered in enough dry straw to keep the exhausted travelers warm. So the three retired to their respective 'spots', arranging hay and cloaks to make the best of their meager lodgings. The royal youth and the recently-freed slave were both quick to drift off to the land of dreams and nonsense.

Still, something was bothering the 'ogre' of their group. Bakura had barely closed his eyes when he was brought back to consciousness by something... flickering.

'That light... that's not a firefly...' Something was breaking through the midnight dusk, dancing across the blacksmith's closed lids and keeping him from dozing. 'What on Earth...' Bakura finally opened his eyes, wondering if the moronic blonde had somehow managed to set the straw flooring aflame.

But the real location of the source was far more baffling- indeed, Bakura had to blink several times to ensure that he wasn't somehow dreaming.

The prince was curled up against the opposite wall, his right arm cradling his head while he slept. But despite his faint, slow breathing (indicative of a truly deep and peaceful sleep), it looked as though a tiny, azure fire had alighted on his left hand. Bakura focused his eyes on the strange beam, and realized it was coming from the tip of the royal's left index finger.

The blacksmith was baffled- how was Ryou doing that?! The bluish-white glow seemed to grow brighter with every breathe the prince took in, but it dimmed in an almost perfectly-balanced counter-measurement every time he exhaled.

Soon the smithy was equal parts curious and concerned, and he slowly made his way towards the mysterious luminescence. The steadily-cycling glow didn't falter as he approached the other white-haired traveler. The iron-worker's crimson eyes widened as he took in the full point of light. There was no hiding it at such a close range- the pale glow was definitely coming from within the other's skin. Faint wisps of blue gleams could be seen running along Ryou's palm, before gathering together at his fingertip.

'Like drops of dew clinging to a leaf's edge!' Unsure if this was a sign of a curse or illness, Bakura decided it would be best to wake the prince and inform him of his new 'candle-wick.' He decided to rapidly poke the prince's shoulder while explaining.

"Your highness, there's a-"

" _Waagh!"_ His mind still befogged by sleep, Ryou was shocked by the sudden and frantic tapping on his left shoulder. There was brilliant flash of blue light, and Bakura quickly found himself lying on the wooden floor on the other side of the 'room.' His head reeled from the abrupt attack, and he dazedly tried to take in what had just happened.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!" Ryou put his hands over his mouth in mortification before rushing over and offering one to the winded blacksmith. "Are you alright?!"

"Ugh... what _was_ that?!" Shaking his head, Bakura noticed that the blonde fool had somehow not been awakened from his rest. 'A small blessing, I suppose...' Turning his attention back to the prince, the anvil-worker narrowed his eyes. "I'm guessing that wasn't a result of all that black pepper in the soup earlier?"

Ryou gave a deep sigh and lowered his gaze towards the floor. "No, it's... it's my magic. I can't control it when I'm startled- or angry- or frightened."

The farrier snorted as he shook off the excess straw from his trousers. "That's fairly unusual, for a royal to be blessed with magic skills."

Ryou raised his left hand up just enough for the light to spread further. "It's more of a curse, than a bless- oh!" The shorter youth let out a gasp as he looked upwards, his expression slightly panicked. "Bakura-!"

"Eh? What?!"

"Your- your hair..." Ryou's face slowly grew impish. He covered his mouth again, but this time he was also snickering behind his palm. "I'm... sorry, but..."

"Eh?!" Bakura pulled out a polished silver flask from his supplies, and glanced at his reflection in the metal. He was stunned to see that his hair had been changed from a pure white-silver sheen... to a chaotic explosion of random rainbow colors. It looked as though a child had randomly flung various blobs of brightly-hued paints at his head. "Oh, so you think that's _funny_ , eh?"

The giggling royal could only nod in confirmation.

"Tch- whatever. It'll grow back out eventually."

Ryou smiled as he shook his head. "No worries; it should wear off shortly- it's only a minor illusion spell."

"Huh, an illusion, you say?" The 'afflicted' traveler tilted his head so the ensorcelled locks drifted over his face. He ran one long strand through his fingers, watching as the colors seemed to blend seamlessly with one another as the hairs slipped by. "Quite impressive, for an illusion."

"I seem to have a natural talent for certain aspects of the arcane arts. Yet..." The nobleman paused, the uncertainty in his voice nearly tangible in its weight. But the blacksmith waited with an expectant look until the other went on. "I... I cannot control my magic when I am surprised or enraged. That is part of why I was sent away for tutelage under Sir Seto... very few royals seek training outside their court, but even our local magister couldn't handle my powers." Ryou shook his head miserably. "I... am a danger to everyone I love. I cannot be around my family, or else I risk accidentally harming them. Sir Seto has been wonderful, trying everything he can think of, but still, I... I fail." The despondent aristocrat let his head hang in shame.

"Right- and why is that such a bad thing?"  
"EH?!" The startled prince nearly forgot to keep his voice down as he turned his gaze upwards again. "But- because someone could get _hurt_!"  
"Yeah, but you're a scrawny shrimp of a royal- maybe it's not so bad that you have a bit of a 'self-defense' system on hand, you know?"

"Yes, but..." Ryou sighed, hating how hard it was to even admit the truth. "...but I do wish to wed _some_ day, and if I do... I would surely be putting my beloved in great peril as well. I do not want to risk the lives of my current and eventual family, so I must return to my training in isolation until I am 'safe'."

The iron-smith snorted. "Bullsh*t."  
"I beg your pardon?!"

"I said, **'bullsh*t'**." Bakura declared louder. "I think anyone who's scared away by something as minor as _this_ -" here he grabbed one of his now rainbow-colored locks- "isn't good enough to deserve you."

Ryou could feel a faint flush building beneath his cheeks, but he only bowed his head again and said, "thank you."

The other pale youth shrugged. "We 'ogres' are brutally honest."

There was a moment of silence, before a quiet voice timidly added, "...you're not."

"Eh?"

Ryou slightly raised his tone. "You're not an 'ogre,' you know. I think you just value your privacy more than others. But you're neither dim-witted nor cruel... you are hardly monstrous in any way."

Now it was the blacksmith's turn to blush, but he only waved off the compliments with one hand. "As you like-"

But the prince wasn't finished. "-and you're a good tradesman, as well. That's why I made you a promise, and I shall keep it. I will meet with Lord Marik tomorrow, and ensure that your land is not over-taxed."

"Hm, I would much appreciate your sway over that maniacal tyrant- now, do you mind if I get back to sleep?" He gestured towards Malik's now-snoring form. "That nutcase awakes at a most unnaturally early hour, and he starts braying immediately."

Ryou gave a faint chuckle and nodded. "Of course. Good night, Bakura."

The smithy snorted as he laid back down on the hay. "G'night, royal pain."


End file.
